


Scenes from a Comatose Mind

by Draycevixen



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Coma, Kitchen Sex, Life on Mars Ficathon, Life on Mars Ficathon (2009), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-31
Updated: 2011-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Dragonlit, for the Life on Mars Ficathon, 2009.</p><p>Her prompt was: <i>Gene/Sam, Gene leaves Sam for the Missus, angsty ending</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes from a Comatose Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonlit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlit/gifts).



.

 **_How it ended..._ **

 

“In my office now, Tyler.”

Gene had thought long and hard about when and where to do this. He couldn’t do it in private, wasn’t sure enough that he could go through with it if they were alone, and somewhere like The Railway Arms was just too dangerous, Sam’s behaviour at the best of times being unpredictable. No, here in his office was best, where if Sam threw a cog he could control the damage.

“What d’you want, Gene?”

As had become his habit, Sam walked around Gene’s desk to sit on the edge of it facing him, his thigh pressing against Gene’s knee.

“It’s like this Sam.” Gene stared at his hands white knuckled from gripping the arms of his chair. “The Missus is coming back from Macclesfield, she can’t stand it any longer at her sister’s house and...”

Gene couldn’t understand the sudden lump in his throat. He’d decided that this was for the best after all, that it was the right thing to do for everyone. It took him a minute to realize that Sam had stood up.

“It’s all right, Guv. I get it.”

Gene watched Sam’s hands flexing into fists, thinking Sam was going to punch him, thinking that he deserved it, deserved a good hiding for being a coward, deciding he wouldn’t defend himself.

“You’re married... Made a commitment... So many years together... Owe it to her to try again.” Sam reeled off all the appropriate clichés in a voice devoid of any shred of the anger Gene had expected to hear or any of the depth of feeling Gene had come to expect as his own.

By the time Gene found it in himself to raise his head Sam had made it to the door, his back still turned to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Guv. We’ll get cracking on the Lowes case.”

The door closed quietly behind Sam. It was another hour before Gene moved.

 

 **_How it burned out..._ **

 

Gene watched it fall apart, watched it in the same way you see it when you drop a glass, like it’s happening in slow motion but you still can’t move fast enough to stop it from shattering on the floor.

The more they had together, the more Sam seemed to need and the more careless he became.

He started slipping and using Gene’s name enough at work that Gene had overheard Ray complaining to Chris about Sam taking liberties. There’d also been more use of “We think...” then Gene would ever be comfortable with, knowing their strength on the job came in large part from their different points of view.

The man who’d never seemed comfortable being touched became a bloody octopus. Gene couldn’t even sit on the couch with him without Sam leaning up against him, kissing his neck, brushing his fingers over Gene’s hand. Gene liked it most of the time, bloody loved it in fact, but sometimes a bloke just wanted to watch the footie in peace.

What he didn’t like at all, hated in fact, was how it was happening in public too. Sam was always brushing up against Gene, putting a hand on his arm, moving his thigh to lie alongside Gene’s on the bench at the pub, even once pressing his hand against the small of Gene’s back while stood at the bar talking to Nelson.

And then, then Sam had started talking about moving in with Gene.

 

 **_How it burned..._ **

 

“C’mon Sam it was bleeding funny, the look on Dawson’s face when he pulled the trigger and nothing happened.”

Gene spoke over his shoulder as he led the way through the back door of his house in to his kitchen. He threw his jacket across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“Cuppa?” Gene asked as he turned toward the sink after picking up the kettle.

“You bastard!” Sam charged Gene, driving him back in to the kitchen counter hard enough to rattle the glasses on their shelf and for Gene to let go of the kettle sending it bouncing and clanking across the kitchen lino.

Gene would have yelled back but found it impossible to do so with a mouth suddenly full of Sam’s tongue and with the further distraction of Sam’s hands clutching at his shoulders, arms and then his hips like he was making sure that Gene was still intact.

“You stupid fucking bastard!” Sam bit suddenly and sharply in to the side of Gene’s neck, marking him, pulling an answering stream of Anglo Saxon from Gene as he bucked against Sam’s hips.

“You could have told me the gun wasn’t loaded” Sam’s hands pulled frantically at Gene’s belt “but you had to have your fucking joke, didn’t you?” Sam ripped open Gene’s zip with scant regard for the way the material was pulled tight across his erection.

“Now Sam I—” Gene’s words choked off in a groan as Sam’s hand closed around his cock, too hard, too rough, too fast... too bloody perfect. What he’d wanted for weeks now, Sam’s careful caresses never being quite all that he needed, not quite sure how to ask for more, worried about seeming weak. Who knew that having a gun pointed at him was what it would take to finally release this?

“I knew I was going to watch you die.” Sam let go of Gene’s cock, ignoring his groan of protest, grabbing hold of his hips and turning Gene to face the counter as he pushed his trousers and pants down around his knees. “I couldn’t bear it, you stupid fucker, being alone again.”

 _Alone?_ Even hobbled by his trousers with his rigid cock uncomfortably nudging the counter, he wasn’t going to try to stop Sam, not now, instead bracing himself with both hands as he heard Sam working on opening his own flies. _But what did he mean by—_

“Oil?” Sam grunted.

 _Finally._ “Pantry, bottom shelf.”

“Don’t you bloody well move.”

Gene wasn’t known for his patience but he was going to stand right there if it took Sam five years to come back which it didn’t. Gene flinched as he felt oil poured down the crack of his arse, could feeling it trickling down his thighs. He had half a mind to complain about the damage to his trousers and then Sam’s fingers pushed up in to him and he didn’t even have that much of his mind left to spare.

Sam had three fingers worked in to him, the pressure astounding, and was biting the back of his neck like a chew toy when Gene finally realized that the high pitched begging he could hear was his own distorted voice.

“Fuck me now Sam, christ, now, fuck me now, please Sam, please.”

Gene felt Sam drag his cock up and down the inside of his thighs, making use of the excess oil, before he pulled his fingers free and entered Gene suddenly, no time for adjustment, sliding all the way home. Gene could hear the oil squelch between them, knew without it that the searing burn he still felt would have been too much to handle.

“Fuck Sam” he grated out between his teeth.

“All right.”

Sam pulled almost all of the way out and slammed home so hard that even given Gene’s greater weight he still pushed him up a little on to the balls of his feet with each thrust before Gene braced himself more firmly against the counter and started pushing back, each thrust interspersed with Sam muttering darkly in to the back of Gene’s neck, nonsense ranting about coming back for him, jumping off a roof for him. Obviously Sam’s brain had shut down too.

Gene wanted it to go on forever, tried to bat Sam’s hand away as it reached for his cock but couldn’t do it as he had to brace them both, his loafered feet sliding on the slick floor. Sam’s oily fingers closed tightly around him, stroking him hard as Sam’s hips accelerated, one, two, three even harder thrusts, his babbling reduced to a guttural repetition of “mine, MINE, _MINE!_ ” as he rammed in to Gene one last time and hung there suspended as orgasm took him, Gene’s come dripping from his fingers.

Gene thought he blacked out, was never quite sure afterwards but was suddenly aware again as Sam eased out of him, their ragged breathing the only sound in the quiet house. Sam tried to help Gene stand, but they were both boneless, half collapsing, half sliding down on to the cold oily lino. They sprawled there side by side, surrounded by the warm glow of the Harvest Gold kitchen appliances, smeared in oil and semen, grinning at each other.

 

 **_How it went right..._ **

 

It was becoming more of a routine than Gene cared to think about. Burst through his office door, kick the filing cabinet, wrench the bottom drawer of his desk open, grab the whisky bottle, slam the drawer shut, kick the desk, drop heavily into his chair the wheels screeching in protest before taking a couple of good pulls on the bottle. All because...

Sam burst through his office door. “Fuck Gene, stop flouncing off when I’m—”

“Flouncing?” Gene’s hand tightened on the bottle.

“I call it flouncing when we’re having a difference of opinion and you—”

“ _Difference of opinion?_ So that’s what they call a right barney in Hyde is it?”

“Don’t change the bloody subject.” Sam walked across the room and sat on the edge of Gene’s desk. “You can’t just walk out Gene. It confuses the men and christ knows they’re confused enough already on the best of days.”

“ _They’re_ confused” Gene muttered before taking another long swig from the bottle.

Sam put out his hand and Gene slowly handed him the bottle, his reluctance obvious. Sam stood up and put it on top of the filing cabinet.

“Oi! I thought you wanted a drink else I’d have kept it.”

Sam sat back on the edge of the desk and leaned in closer, a hand on either arm of Gene’s chair.

“Get off. Anyone might walk in here and see you.”

“Then I best be quick.” Sam leaned in further stopping about an inch away from Gene’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s confusing you.”

Gene could feel Sam’s warm breath that formed his words skitter across his lips.

“Not here, Sam.”

Sam moved his head so it was lying alongside Gene’s still not quite touching, his breath washing across Gene’s ear.

“Tell me.”

Gene wrapped his hands around Sam’s lower arms and moved him firmly back on to the edge of the desk before letting go.

“Before... us, it was simple. You’d be a smart arse and I’d thump you one, you’d thump me one, I’d suggest a few things you probably liked to do with farm animals on your days off and it’d all be sorted. But now...”

“Now?”

“Now we’re shagging each other it doesn’t seem right. That’s the way my dad was with my mum.”

Sam leaned forward to cup Gene’s cheek. “If you want to talk about it—”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it you big jessie.” Gene removed Sam’s hand from his face. “What’s done’s done, I just won’t be him.”

“Right. Good.” Sam got to his feet and stuck out his hand. “Then what d’you say we agree to the continuing exchange of verbal insults and try to keep the punching down to the absolute necessary bare minimum?”

“You’re on.” Gene stood up, shook Sam’s hand, pulled him in to a quick kiss and strode out of the office yelling at Sam over his shoulder. “C’mon Gladys, we’ve got villainous scum to catch no time for you to do your make-up.”

 

 ** _How it Started_...**

 

“Just what is it about you and roofs then Tyler?”

“Guv?” Sam craned to look over his shoulder, almost losing his balance in the process.

Gene cut quite a figure in his dinner jacket backlit as he was by the light spilling out of the open stairwell door. Not that Sam would ever tell him that. Gene could do with being more humble, his over-sized ego certainly didn’t need feeding.

“Right genius... you are... course it’s me.”

After climbing ten flights of stairs, Gene was breathless. He walked slowly across the roof in the overly careful manner of the deeply inebriated, half-full whisky bottle dangling from one hand. He dropped heavily to sit by Sam about a foot away from the edge of the roof, knocking shoulders with him in the process. Gene handed his bottle to Sam who looked at it blankly for a minute before handing Gene an identical bottle he had tucked down by his side. They both took a long swig and carefully handed the bottles back to their original owner.

“Didn’t answer my question, Tyler.”

Sam turned his head to look at him. “Question?”

“About roofs. Why roofs? You going to make some wax wings like Daedalus?”

“Icarus, it was Icarus, Guv, who flew too close to the sun.”

“You’re right but that’s not what I said, smart arse. It was his dad, Daedalus, who made the wings.”

Sam turned all the way round to face him. “You never fail to astound me Guv. How the hell did you know that?

“Used to be a big book of Greek legends at the library when I was a lad. Loved them, full of battles, monsters and blokes with ‘an unhealthy obsession with male bonding’, think you called it... Spartans. Yeah, Spartans.” Gene lifted his whisky bottle in a toast. “Come home with your shield or on it.”

Sam shrugged and toasted with him.

“So what you doing up here? I don’t think the brass downstairs have finished bending over for you yet, could probably find you a bottle of chip oil in the kitchen if you fancy it.” Gene took another drink. “Mind, it was worth it to see the look on Litton’s face, couldn’t decide if he were going to burst in to tears or shit himself when he heard that remark about how the Regional Crime Squad could learn a lot from you.”

“Us. It was ‘learn a lot from _us_.’”

“It was mostly your work.”

“All right, who are you and what have you done with Gene ‘I’m a magnificent bastard’ Hunt?”

“Just trying to tell you that you did a good job, Sam. There’s no winning with—”

“Sorry, Guv. Thanks.”

There was a clear view of Manchester from the hotel roof. In the silence that followed they both stared out across the city. Gene put down his bottle and shifted so his legs were stretched out in front of him as he leaned back slightly on his hands.

“I know she’s not much to look at and I’m sure they’re going to offer you something in London and—”

“She’s beautiful.”

“You what? How much you had to drink Sam?”

“I was born here, love the people here warts and all and I don’t see what’s there” Sam gestured at the city, sloshing the whisky in his bottle in the process “I see what could be there. Always have, always will.”

“You’re a strange bugger, Sam Tyler—”

“That I am Guv that I am.”

“And I’m a selfish one. I want you to stay.”

“I thought...” Sam’s hand clenched tightly around the whisky bottle.

“You thought what?”

“Downstairs in the cloakroom when you told me about the missus leaving you and I...”

“Stuck your tongue down my throat?”

“Kissed you... and you walked away... I thought you’d _want_ me to take the job in London.”

“I’m a creature of habit Sam. I don’t like surprises, don’t handle them well. Not unless it’s the stripper in a cake sort of surprise and—”

“Guv.”

“Right. I’m not used to getting what I really want, I’ve always had to make do and mend.”

“You mean?”

Gene closed his hand around Sam’s. “I mean I want you to stay here. With me.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Gene recognized the hospital smell before he even opened his eyes: daisies, despair and disinfectant.

Gene blinked through sleep encrusted eyes, tried to listen to what the doctor was going on about and for the few minutes he managed to stay awake before sleep reclaimed him drank in the sight of Tyler’s drawn features, the chalky looking skin pulled far too tight, looming over the doctor’s bent back.

 

When Gene woke up again it was Phyllis’ face looming over him.

“Guv.” She turned and lifted a cup with a straw in it to his lips. “Here, drink some of this.”

He’d never tasted anything as good as that water. “Bloody hell woman,” he rasped out in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Water? You trying to kill me?”

“That’s the plan, Guv. I could’ve just smothered you with a pillow but I was waiting for you to wake up from your coma so you’d know it was me who did it.”

Phyllis put the cup back down on the tray and sank in to the chair by the side of his bed.

“I thought I saw Tyler earlier.”

“You did.”

A quick glance at Phyllis, the pursed lips and the crossed arms, told him he was going to have to work for the information he wanted. “But he had to go and take care of things, he can’t be leaving Ray alone too long.”

“No. He didn’t _have_ to go. He’s been here all the time since you fell off the roof chasing Lowes. Six days you’ve been out of it. Took his holidays to do it, left Ray in charge. Course he let Ray know that he was going to have Annie watch him.”

“Didn’t the Missus think it was odd? I mean Sam being here so much.”

“We haven’t seen hide nor hair of that… Mrs. Hunt since you’ve been in here. Sam and Annie went to tell her what happened to you, were going to bring her to see you. Sam came back looking fit to be tied, sorted things out with Ray and Annie and then came straight here to the hospital. It’s Annie who told me what happened.”

Gene glared at Phyllis who glared right back. Gene took a deep breath while reminding himself that in his condition Phyllis could probably beat him to death with her handbag.

“ _What_ happened Phyllis?”

“I told Annie I wouldn’t tell you but as you asked... I can’t be lying to my boss now can I? She buggered back off to Macclesfield. Your Missus told them she’d be going to stay with her sister again and to let her know if you woke up. If you didn’t, she said to call her anyway as she’d have to do something about the house and your pension.”

Gene wasn’t even surprised… which surprised him.

“But Sam was here the whole time?”

“Yes he was, talking away to you about everything and nothing, saying it was very important to keep talking to you. The poor lamb.”

“What?”

“The bloody fool.”

Phyllis stood up, poured some more water in to the cup and helped Gene to take another drink. Then she returned the cup to the tray, fussed over his blankets a bit and picked up her handbag.

“I’ll be going then, Guv. I called your missus, she says she might stop by tomorrow. Poor woman, obviously too delicate to see you like this, pity she’s not made of sterner stuff like Sam.”

Phyllis stopped at the end of the bed.

“Almost forgot to mention that I don’t think Sam’ll be back in to visit you. He already talked to the Superintendent, told him that he was going to take that transfer to London, once he knew you were all right. Funny that, never seemed to occur to _Sam_ that you wouldn’t recover. Anyway, keen as they were to have him I should imagine he’ll be gone soon. It’s always nice to be wanted. I hope he has better luck with that in London.”

 

.


End file.
